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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615406">Memory Lane</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_Queen_2112/pseuds/Tea_Queen_2112'>Tea_Queen_2112</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:47:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615406</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_Queen_2112/pseuds/Tea_Queen_2112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon helps Ramsay with a little project so he can earn his next hit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Thramsay2020 Kinkmeme Event</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Memory Lane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_totel/gifts">p_totel</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt was "junkie theon depending on ramsay for heroin, begging him for it and being compliant when he gets it is 👀✌️ maybe even if he has to do things to earn it...but he cant bc hes shaking...😔💦 -P-totel". (Excellent emoji usage). </p><p>Well, :D. Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Get up.” </p><p>That voice always seemed harsher in the morning time. The stocky blurred body stood right beside the head of his soiled mattress. Theon wasn’t a morning person. He hadn’t been for a while. Sleeping off whatever drug-induced hangover he happened to be recovering from. </p><p>“Ugh...Rams...What time-” Before he could look out the boarded-up window Ramsay had already blocked his view. </p><p>Ramsay forcefully pulled back the curtain, the sunlight assaulting his eyes like a thousand piercing daggers. </p><p>“It doesn’t matter what time it is,” Ramsay told him. “You still haven’t earned your hit for today.” </p><p>Theon jolted upright, hands shielding his eyes from the abrasive sunlight.  </p><p>Ramsay grabbed a fistful of his unwashed hair, dragging him out of the bed and throwing him onto the floor. Being thrown down first thing in the morning wasn’t ideal with his head swimming the way that it was. Those first few moments of waking up where it was nothing but delirious sleepy bliss. After the bliss came the crushing wire grip of reality, going taut around his brain. </p><p>“How- How can I earn it?” His hands clasped together as he got onto his knees before his master, his hands instinctively reaching for Ramsay’s red belt buckle. </p><p>Ramsay pried Theon’s fingers of his belt, his grip latching onto his weakened wrist, twisting it towards him. </p><p>“I want you to help me with a little crafting project Reek. Something worth a little more than one of your half-assed blowjobs.”</p><p>Theon didn’t bring himself to move despite his disbelief. Those words were far too domestic to ever be uttered from his master’s lips. The master wouldn’t dare indulge in a project that he’d consider womanly lest he be seen as weak. A barrage of thoughts trying to reason this bizarre request. Perhaps a gift for his stepmother? Myranda maybe. </p><p>“Crafting-g?” </p><p>“You’re going to help me make up a little photo album.”</p><p>Theon had to take a moment to make sure he’d heard all of this right. Perhaps he might have blamed his cotton filled head had simply misheard everything. That would be the case if drugs were still in his system. </p><p>He’d been locked in his room god knows how long. All that time without a hit. They’d fizzled their way out and now the withdrawal began. It had only been a few days give or take but time in Ramsay den had little meaning when all the days passed like a blurry haze. </p><p>“An album?” </p><p>His master never let him help with anything before. The most Reek was allowed to do was household chores, even then he somehow managed to fuck it up. Reek was desperate to make him feel happy. If he could help his master his master would praise him. Not just the praise but he’d earn his hit as well. The more awake he became the more his stomach began to turn. The contents of his stomach sloshing about with unease. </p><p>“Something your mother would have made for you if she wasn’t such a little junkie whore. Like mother like son I suppose. I know the concept is very confusing for you.”</p><p>“I can make an effort, Master! I can do what you please.”</p><p>“Well Reek this just proves how stupid you are. You just gave me a hollow offer. You’ll already do what I want.”</p><p>“Of course. Reek is stupid. Reek, Reek rhymes with weak.”</p><p>Ramsay gave his wicked smile. Grabbing Reek by his wrist and forcing him down the stairs, Ramsay not caring for Theon’s unsteady legs. </p><p>As they walked down the stairs Theon looked around at what he now called his home. Wooden planks covering broken windows and beer cans scattered on the floor. The asbestos clinging to every wall and every corner.  </p><p>Ramsay left Theon on the sofa while he gathered the supplies. His eyes followed intently as Ramsay moved about the room. Uneasy eyes watching anything that moved. Noticing the little insignificant things. The wall had seven cracks…. no...Eight. The kitchen had at least ten unwashed plates in the sink. The bathroom toilet overflowing with the remnants of Ramsay’s other customer’s stomach contents. </p><p>The whole house was rife with decay. Perhaps at one point in time, it might have been worthy of love and care. It was anybody's guess as to why Ramsay still kept this rodent-infested hell hole. </p><p>Some plaster dust fell from the ceiling, falling on the table before him, forcing Theon’s eyes to drift to the table in front of him. </p><p>Not even the coffee table was decent. Razorblade markings, stained beyond repair with alcohol and fixed to its absolute limit with duct tape. Theon eyed up the other items on the table but he restrained himself.  His eyes stopping on something that was seemingly unmarked by the house. </p><p>There was a book on the table. Normally he’d expect trashy magazines that the prostitutes brought but this seemed far too elegant for the likes of this place. On the cover was gold cursive lettering.</p><p>
  <i>“MEMORY LANE.”</i>
</p><p>Ramsay pulled out a pair of rusted fabric scissors, setting them out of the table in front of him right beside a small plastic baggie. The fresh needle in plain sight beside it. Theon’s teeth digging into his bottom lip upon the sight of it. Ramsay’s eyes wandering down to Theon’s soft pink lips. </p><p>“Such a needy little whore.” </p><p>Ramsay smacked the back of his head. Theon’s eyes cast back down to his legs. Such a stupid dog. Dogs didn’t look their masters in the eye. Looking him in the eye meant that they were equals. </p><p>Theon thought the sickness would pass. Perhaps it would simply be a cause of not having eaten.  The assumption would have stayed with him until he looked at his thigh. </p><p>His leg shook against the table. The persistent shake spreading into arms, the consistent changing between hot and cold raining down on him like a hot fever. If his master hadn’t trained him well enough he’d have been tempted to snatch away his medicine right off of the table. Reek was trained. Reek was a good boy. </p><p>Good boys didn’t need to be punished. </p><p>Good boys got their medicine. </p><p>Ramsay picked up the shoebox filled with the Polaroid’s on the table, grabbing a handful and throwing them down. The pictures scattered like crime scene photos. They might as well have been legitimate crime pictures with the number of crimes taking place within them. </p><p>Theon could only blink as he took it in. The cover of the album was living up to its name. Different versions of himself all looking back at him. All of them were different yet it was still the same pathetic brown eyes looking into the camera. </p><p>“Well go on. Get started. You want to earn it don’t you?” </p><p>Theon looked at the pile before him. He picked up the first picture that came to his shaking hand. The picture was a memory he could never forget, even if he wanted to. That stupid frat party where everything had begun. </p><p>The first time he’d ever interacted with Ramsay Bolton. </p><p>Theon didn’t remember much of that night, nor the morning that followed. Some pricks had plastered the word whore all over his body in thick black, very permanent, ink. To make matters worse he was going to have lunch at his sister’s and the last thing he needed was her seeing him in that state. Ramsay had been his knight in shining armour that morning, having some orange juice and baby wipes on hand. The two had got to talking and eventually exchanged numbers before Theon left. </p><p>From the first conversation, Ramsay had Theon eating from the palm of his hand. From his acquaintance to weed dealer to boyfriend.</p><p>To his heroin supplier. </p><p>The old him never would have allowed this to happen, to be living in squalor. Theon had been firm on the belief that weed was the furthest he’d go with his drug-taking. He’d claw his own back to a point of bleeding if it meant he could shed this person he’d put on and go back. Back to a time when things were salvageable. Reek was past the point of no return. </p><p>Theon snipped the first picture, letting out a sigh. The shaking threatening to ruin things just as he’d started. Seeing Ramsay stand smugly as he tried to make the cut, putting him off. Still he retained his focus. The need to earn his keep was overriding the unease of his insides churning. </p><p>Using the shitty dollar store glue supplied to him he stuck the picture into a nice decorative page. The gold page already had some other pictures of him placed inside of it. Some pictures from years ago and others from a month prior. </p><p>The one in his hand was a month ago to the day. The time when Reek had misbehaved and Ramsay had rightfully sought to give him a punishment. If Theon was going to act like a dog then he was going to be treated as such. Theon’s free hand reached up to his own neck while the other stroked the page, tracing over the memory of something that was no longer there. </p><p>“Very good. Does widdle Theon enjoy this?” Ramsay asked in his snide tone. </p><p>Theon nodded, he went to pick up the second picture. He only held it for a second before it slipped out from his sweat soaked palm.</p><p>“Idiot. Can’t even pick up a picture. I guess if you don’t want it that’s fine.”</p><p>Ramsay pulled the needle away and Theon almost made a grab for it. Their needle was empty but the idea of not getting it was too much to cope with. Ramsay raised his hand to smack him but instead gently cupped his cheek. </p><p>The second attempt to pick up the picture was successful. The contents of the picture only added to his growing sickness. The memories flooded in.</p><p>The picture depicted events that he’d thought he’d forgotten about. The night he’d been so loopy on his medication he hadn’t even noticed he’d accidentally “stepped” on a loose nail, going right through his foot. Waking up the next morning he awoke to Damon, Skinner and Ramsay all casting their eyes down on him. All three men were eager for a ride.</p><p> A ride they called it. </p><p>It was incredible how they made it sound so innocent. Theon would have laughed if it hadn’t been so pitiful.  The degradation of that day burned into his mind. Then again technically speaking there wasn’t much that wouldn’t stick in his mind. </p><p>The moment he decided to capture was when Skinner was about to cum inside of him, both of them sweating messes, Damon stroking himself off in the background. Theon knew Ramsay had taken more but he’d dare not question how many more.</p><p>One more picture down.</p><p>Next picture. Sweating, panting and shaking. </p><p>Theon in a cage. Theon had been naughty and tried to get into Ramsay’s special stash. Like all bad dogs who got into something they weren’t meant to, he was thrown into the dog cage. Ramsay had grown so fond of it he’d now use it for even the most minor of issues. Coughing during a movie? The cage. Not screaming enough? The cage. Screaming too loud? The cage.  </p><p>The sickness was setting into Reek’s stomach again. If he didn’t get the sweet needle in his veins he was going to rip the flesh from his bone just to make the itching stop. The scissors coming close to his skin. </p><p>Each snip of the scissors was like he was disarming a bomb with no protective gear. Cut the wrong way and it would all blow up.</p><p>The way the scissors gleamed in the light. The idea of a stainless steel blade in his stomach was more appealing than the idea of the withdrawal. The absolute hell that was writhing from underneath his skin. </p><p>No matter how much he wanted to do all of those things he had to remember one important rule. Ramsay got to decide when he died, not himself. Besides, all he needed to do was cut the pictures. He didn’t need to think about it all he had to do was do it. </p><p>Before he could even look at the next photo he felt the scissors slice into the top of his finger. The bloody scissors had nicked his index finger, making the smallest cut across the top. He sucked the wound, Ramsay paying particularly close attention to it. Ramsay licked those worm-like lips. </p><p>All of it coming to a head as Theon placed his hands over his mouth. Rushing by Ramsay to the bathroom. The dingy toilet made him throw up even more violently. The unsightly shade of the vomit was a shade that made Ramsay very, very happy. Purging and retching until his stomach was empty. </p><p>Every wrong decision he’d ever made. Every damned choice he’d made flashed in Theon’s mind. The argument with Robb, the argument with his sister. All the bloody fights he picked all leading him here. Leading him to vomit up his guts in this shit-stained toilet in a crack den with his psychopathic boyfriend. </p><p>“Poor widdle Theon. Can’t use scissors, can’t hold the contents of his stomach. Can’t even hold a job. What can you do? Do you need a master to care for you?” Ramsay asked with pout. </p><p>Theon didn’t have enough dignity to respond to that question. All dignity had been ripped away. If Ramsay didn’t give him the dose now he’d drown. Drown in his regret, possibly his own sick. Ramsay grabbed his finger, lapping up the blood like it was sweet sugar syrup. </p><p>“I suppose you did lighten the workload. Even for junkie scum like yourself. Alright. Hold out your arm.”</p><p>At last. </p><p>The liquid salvation lay in Ramsay’s hand only inches away. </p><p>Ramsay slowly did all the preparation. Pouring the powder onto the spoon, the flames licking the metal base. The sweet bubbles popping and fizzing as it got closer and closer to perfection. Ramsay placed the cotton onto the heroin, the liquid sucked through the metal lips of the needle. The clear brown liquid was close to being an erotic sight. The process felt agonizingly slow as Theon wrapped the thin belt around his arm as he awaited Ramsay to inject the drugs for him </p><p>They’d learned not to let Theon do it himself. Poor stupid Theon just messed it up when he tried it himself. Ramsay had been so kind as to do it for him. Theon was just so infantile when it came to doing anything for himself. </p><p>Theon already had his sleeve rolled up like a good little boy. The healed track marks now acting as an impromptu tally. Eleven tiny holes littered his arms. Some looked pink and fleshy while others turned the colour of liquorice. Ramsay certainly hoped that it wouldn’t be like in the movies where doctors would need to amputate. If anyone was going to amputate anything from off Theon it was going to be him. Despite the appeal of an armless bitch, his fingers were still dreadfully fun to play with. </p><p>“Take your fucking fix whore.”</p><p>The needle glided into his vein, injecting pure unsolicited bliss into his blood. Finally, the torment that had been racking his body dissipated into nothingness as the warmth enveloped him. The cut on his finger no longer stung, nothing had the usual sting that it did. Sweet comfort melted onto his brain. Theon let himself drift back onto the sofa as he adjusted to the high. </p><p>Ramsay took the belt from off his arm and placed a hand on his back. </p><p>“Come on love. Come to bed with me. You are so wonderful my pet. My darling. Taking his shot like a big boy. For being so good you can earn your next fix early.” Ramsay said in his softest voice. </p><p>“Mmmm ‘kay. Love you.” Theon’s eyelids felt weighted, just about managing to keep his eyes open.  </p><p>When Theon took his medicine like a good boy Ramsay was so lovely. Like a prince right out of a fairy-tale book, he looked divine. Carrying him in such a gentle way, his boyfriend did love him and that was the end of that. Ramsay carried Theon bridal style to the bed. Only Ramsay was allowed the good bed, the one with the clean sheets and an intact frame. When Theon was a good boy he was allowed on the bed too. He felt so good when he was so high up.</p><p>Theon rested his head against Ramsay’s burly shoulder. Ramsay planted a kiss on his head that made Theon feel loved. </p><p>Ramsay laid him on the bed and Theon felt that second wave of euphoria. The soft fabric beneath him was like the fabric from his youth, before his family and before the Starks. It just felt comforting to him. </p><p>“Reek. Hold on. Stay exactly like that.”</p><p>Theon didn’t want to move from this position, just stay on the bed for the next couple of hours and ride out the high in peace. </p><p>A flash above him made him blink, the light curved around his body. Theon found a fascination in closing his eyes and still seeing the remnants of the light, dark splodges dotting his vision. Upon opening his eyes again his vision was swimming, Ramsay giving off an angelic glow from behind him. </p><p>“Another one for the album.”</p>
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